"The schlieren optical system was invented in the 17th century and then forgotten for two hundred years. A classic example of an idea before its time," says Gary Settles, a professor of mechanical engineering at Penn State.

"The average investor has only 11,000 more genes than a worm? Leave it to the New York Times' business writers to put the human genome sequence in perspective.

Craig Venter of Celera Genomics, lead author on the paper in Science that announced the completion of the sequence last February, phrased it nicely too. As he told Reuters news service: "Corn has the same number of genes as humans."

Scientific illiteracy abounds in America. One recent poll, funded by the National Science Foundation, found that fewer than half those interviewed knew that the Earth takes one year to orbit the Sun.

Unfortunately, grade-school teachers are not immune. And if teachers can't make sense of basic scientific concepts— if they can't "integrate them into their own understanding," as Vincent Lunetta, a Penn State professor of curriculum and instruction, puts it—then it is next to impossible for their pupils to do so.

A mystical stillness spreads over the coast of Norway as the sun slides slowly into the sea. Shadows lengthen, crevices seem to deepen, and scattered caves appear. Gull cries echo through the fjords. Earlier today, fishing boats dotted the waters, trolling for the day's catch. But now the boats are docked by the villages, scattered handfuls of cottages clinging to narrow stretches of beach.

A living machine. Sounds suspiciously dangerous. Science fiction is full of those confused computers who threaten astronauts' lives and rebellious robots that require Arnold Schwarzenegger-types to save the human race.

But at the Penn State Center for Sustainability, a living machine is not a fictional antagonist. In fact, it's the opposite. It's here to save the day.

"Down here it's real foamy," Penn State chemist Robert Minard explains, pointing to a clear, plastic cylinder filled with dingy-white bubbles. "The sea foam rises up and skims over into this bucket." He peers into a bucket, where the end of a long, plastic tube spews dirty froth. "That's sort of organic garbage. You know, it's a sewage treatment plant."

Imagine hundreds of thousands of molecules whizzing around you. You are standing inside a chemistry experiment, zapping the molecules with lasers and watching the results occur. Another scientist joins you. Even though your labs are thousands of miles apart, you are both surrounded by the same experiment. The limiting distances of the real world are irrelevant.

"Clearly fat makes food taste good," Barbara Rolls says. "It gives food all those lovely textures: creamy, flaky, crunchy, crispy, smooth. It also carries the volatile odors to the nose and makes food more appealing. But we wondered if there were another reason people eat too much fat."

Sanshzar Kettebekov stands in front of the camera. He raises his arm and a red cursor-hand appears on the map on the big-screen TV in front of him. He points at a building and asks the computer what department is housed there.

"Electrical Engineering," the computer responds in Kettebekov's voice, accent included—because he's the one who programmed the vocal data into the computer.

"Show me the nearest parking," Kettebekov says. The computer draws a line connecting the building to the closest lot.

We all know about rising levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. And we know it's a problem: most researchers link carbon dioxide emissions with global warming. But as an industrialized society, can we make energy choices that will help reduce carbon dioxide levels? What are the costs and consequences of those choices?